I was buried in another Donald Miller book and while I was searching for God on his pages, my heart broke as he began to tell this story of a boy he went to middle school with. Every school has their geek and this was just another tragic story of a boy who was picked on and deemed “uncool” by all his peers. How could they be so cruel to him, I wondered. And with each hateful word the pain I felt for him penetrated a little deeper in my soul. Though words weren’t their only weapon, most wouldn’t acknowledge his existence, predestined unworthy even to share the same air they breathed.

My heart in that moment desired to become a teacher, so I could befriend students like him. I wanted to reach into the story and tell that little boy he was loved. I wanted to tell him to ignore the bullying from the school’s jock. I wanted to assure him the last laugh was as good as his, as quarterback Joe would eventually go on to impregnate cheerleader Jane and both would wind up fat and unhappy.

My next thought was to raise up popular kids (which is inevitable because of my DNA) who would befriend the smelly kid in class. My children would single-handedly bridge the gap between cool and not-so-cool.

I wanted to take an ax to the social ladder’o’popularity. This high lasted a whole 30 minutes until I put the book down, but found myself on a one-way flight to Conviction Town shortly after my epiphany.

My new job would have me overseeing a room full of grown up toys. I am basically there to make sure no one walks out with the big screen, breaks a pool stick or tries to smuggle out ping pong balls. Most people leave me alone to watch CSI or play on the computer in peace, but there are some regulars that come in the game room not for the toys but to avoid the loneliness of their apartments, or to annoy me. Most of the time to annoy me, I think.

My first night on the job, we’ll call him Bob, Bob plopped in the chair next to me eager to make a new friend. I flashed a half assed smile in his direction and pretended to be deeply involved in my television show. Bob was walking a fine line of persistence or obliviousness as he managed to carry on a conversation with the side of my face for the better part of an hour. I did some minor nodding, but in no way invited him to continue talking. Eventually he got the hint, or possibly he ran out of European history to impress me with and left. Almost as quickly as the glass door shut behind him, I remembered the little bucktoothed kid Miller had wrote about. This wave of ugliness and shame washed over me as I proved no better than the mean kids I had just read about.

For some reason in that exact moment, I saw Jesus in the face of Bob. And I was broken.

Jesus would have sat down with Bob. Jesus would have made eye contact. Jesus would have hung on every word that Bob had to say. Jesus would have loved Bob. Instead, I swatted at him like a fruit fly until he flew away.

Bob came back the next night I worked. Recognizing this as my redeeming moment I checked my ego at the door and gave Bob my full attention. I made eye contact when I shook his hand and asked his name. I listened intently to his synopsis of the “Everybody Loves Raymond” show, complete with in depth character evaluations. I don’t know about you, but my God has an enormous sense of humor and two hours later a talkative Bob showed no signs of slowing down, or ever leaving for that matter. I pictured God and his angels sitting around the water cooler getting a good chuckle out of my lesson in love.

Eventually the conversation turned to matters of religion and I was able to share a little bit about the Jesus I knew. Nothing to write home to mom about, he hadn’t finished explaining why Northern Italians are lighter skinned than Sicilians, and the moment had come and gone. The seed had been planted, nonetheless and I couldn’t help but wonder how many other opportunities God gives us to love people. I assume about as many as I shoot down to make room for my own agenda.

I am not Mother Teresa. It took every ounce of me to keep from rolling my eyes, or telling him to leave me alone for that matter. I suppose my nose will find itself in the upright position more often than not. But, I took a good look at Bob through my ‘Jesus Love Goggles’ and we were all one big happy family, even if only for a second. I can’t say I won’t act ugly ever again, at least not without a backhand of guilt served on a platter of shame, that is. But, maybe for the first time in my existence I obeyed the second most important commandment. I loved someone as much as I loved myself. And though it was a short-lived romance, I can assure you I was changed forever.

Don Miller. It’s like he snuck into my thoughts and hand delivered them back to me in the form of a paperback.

Don Miller on being a writer:

“Writers don’t make money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don’t work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck’s book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness.”

Don Miller on Religion:

“I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil, but rather have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man’s mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God.”

Don Miller on Faith:

“Love, for example, is a true emotion, but it is not rational. What I mean is, people actually feel it. I have been in love, plenty of people have been in love, yet love cannot be proved scientifically. Neither can beauty. Light cannot be proved scientifically, and yet we all believe in light and by light see all things. There are plenty of things that are true and don’t make any sense. I think one of the problems people have is they want God to make sense. He doesn’t. He will make no more sense to me than I will make sense to an ant.”

Don Miller on Penguin Sex:

“First the females lay eggs. Then the males go over to the females and the females give the males the egg. Then the females leave. They travel for days back to the ocean and jump in and go fishing. The males take care of the eggs. They sit on them for about a month. They don’t even eat. They just watch the eggs. Then the females come back, and right when they do, almost to the day, the eggs are hatched. The females somehow know, even though they have never had babies before, the exact day to go back to the males. I know it sounds crazy, but as I watched I felt like I was one of those penguins. They have this radar inside them that told them when and where to go and none of it made any sense, but they show up on the very day their babies are being born, and the radar always turns out to be right. I have a radar inside me that says to believe in Jesus. Somehow, penguin radar leads them perfectly well. Maybe it isn’t so foolish that I follow the radar that is inside of me.”

Don Miller on Government:

“The genius of the American system is not freedom; the genius of the American system is checks and balances. Nobody gets all the power. Everybody is watching everybody else. It is as if the founding fathers knew, intrinsically, that the soul of man, unwatched, is perverse.”

Jen Ayers on Blue Like Jazz:

"It is the kind of thing that makes you want to drop everything you’ve considered life and just love people. It is a great and magical gift to give someone inspiration—-inspiration to love greatly, to love selflessly. It is one thing to experience the warm fuzziness of pure goodness, but to inspire change in the world?—-that is an accomplishment above none other. To be the change we wish to see, sounds quite good on paper; however what might that look like? And how would a world, in which people embraced such an ideal, function? Let's raise up a generation of Liberal-Christian-Hippie-Republicans. Let's love big, and judge less. Let's be revolutionary."

I’ll never understand the reason human kind continues to choose self-inflected wounds over healing grace, myself included—hell, myself especially.

There I am petal to the metal in my brand new shiny Nissan X-tera, eyes fixed on the cliff ahead. Everything inside of me is convinced I can land the jump with ease. I throw my head back in cockiness at the simplicity of this task. The other side seemingly appears only a mere arms reach across. But, as I get closer I start to realize the gap stretches out a little further than my original calculations. I am faced with a choice. Do I wave the white flag and risk looking cowardly? Or do I press down harder on the gas, insisting a little more steam is good enough to get me across?

I can hear a mousey voice coming from the distance whispering sweet lies—lies that fall so easily on the ears you’d almost beg for more. With the scariest of ease he’s swayed my judgment to believe the other side is as good as mine and though I try to push it down, I am unable to drown out the call to turn away, apply the brakes and abort mission; yet I continue to press on.

The edge is almost here. I try with everything inside me to fight the fear. However; to be wrong and admit defeat is too painful for one swallow.

The SUV races on—closer, faster, it’s only a few feet away now. The mousey voice has left me. I struggle to hear the sound of blissful deceit over my heavily beating heart. There is nothing. In the silence I cry for help. Then truth booms so loudly in my head I am unable to do anything but react. My mind fast forwards to the bloody death that awaits me. Both feet pressed so firmly on the brake, as I close my eyes to block out the reality that consumes me. The events followed by a sick realization that I had done this all to myself. Every ounce of pain I was about to experience was absolutely 100% self-inflected.

I believe what happens after this moment defines who we are. The line is drawn between those who truly understand God’s grace and those who have heard about it, even felt it but decide themselves unworthy of a Savior or worse, too proud.

In this moment some will fall to their doom. But others—others will be renewed.

How to Lose a Girl in 10 Seconds?

Welcome to the sunny southwest. Whether you’re a transplant to this town of the newly wed, nearly dead, or born and bred, one question stands out above them all… What’s there to do around here? Consider this magazine a social guide to who’s who and what’s what in the 239. Yes, we have an over abundance of sandy white beaches, breath taking houses and shopping needs to meet pretty much anyone under the sun. But what goes on when the sun goes down? We’ll tell you the where, the when, and we’ll even throw in a what to wear every now and then. All you have to do is show up ready to get your party on.

Congratulations, you’re flying right down the social checklist. Southwest Florida is crawling with attractive single people. It’s spring break every weekend here. That’s where we come in. Consider this the hookup how-to of "blank" magazine. Still single, lacking in the romance department, or is that, “Hey baby come to daddy.” thing not working so well for you, Casanova? That’s what we thought. Listen up, boys. We’re going to make this real easy on you.

As a single 22 year old, I speak for every lady in the U.S. when I say spare us the lines, PLEASE. We’ve heard and seen them all. Women are not into the whole barking, grabbing, and creepy eye gestures from across the room deal. If I hear one more guy whistle in my direction I might throw up. As hard as it might be for your gigantic ego to swallow, if it appears like we’re ignoring you, chances are… we ARE. Take a quick scan around the bar. See the drunkard at 9 o’clock dancing by herself with toilet paper on her heel? There’s a chance she might be responsive to your mating call, but then again… don’t get your hopes up. Most likely, even she will find your attempt to woo her pitiful. You definitely don’t want to be the guy who gets brutally rebuffed by the drunk girl.

Another suggestion, go easy on the compliments. Though slightly flattering in some cases; you’re probably not the first guy to tell me how beautiful my eyes are. Be original and be witty, and play a little hard to get. Girls like the chase, too. We can detect the smell of desperation almost as well as we pick up on the scent of a shoe sale. I don’t care if you look like Brad Pitt, if you can’t hold my attention, you might as well be feeding those lines to a wall.

Now let’s say you’ve made contact and she didn’t shut you down. What’s your next move? Buy her a drink? Don’t buy her a drink? To be honest with you, whether or not the boy comes out of pocket isn’t going to make or break the deal for me. But, I can attest in my short history of club hopping; the boys that made a mark in my book all had one thing in common. They walked away. If you have the guts to turn cheek, I guarantee she’ll find herself unable to shake you from her memory. It’s that sense of mystery. Reveal enough, but not too much. Always leave her wanting more.

Let’s recap… introduction, followed by originality, some witty banter and then stealing away without any intentions or expectations. Now you’re ready to move in and seal the deal, Romeo. Check back in on her towards the end of the night. Ask her how her night was. And if you’re really feeling brave, extend an invite to the after party. Or perhaps, tell her about this club you read about in Shocase that you and your buddies were planning on checking out the following night. If she accepts, the phone number is as good as yours. This is me patting you on the back. And congratulations we have a first date.

Realistically, is there a formula? No. We’re all different. But if you’re A-game consists of throwing more lines then a crab fisherman, I can assure you my advice would prove a little more fool proof than the pick up lines you have sent to your phone via text message.

Only until you’ve lost everything are you free to do anything--merely a line out of my favorite movie. It’s hardly a religious movie however it falls along the same lines as one of the more recited Bible verses. Jesus asks us in Luke 9:23, to deny ourselves, pick up our cross daily and follow Him. Do not miss this. Christ asks us to die to ourselves everyday. What does that look like? And how often do we actually follow through with this request for carnal suicide?

What holds us back? Can you pin point that one thing you hold so tightly in your grasp? I imagine this question to be harder for some, having denied the issue for so long, pushing it down every time it tries to surface. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I encourage you to go into a dark corner and ask God to reveal it to you. If you know what it is already, hand it over immediately. Though I must caution you to buckle up and be prepared for a rude awakening for He will hold nothing back. Knock and the door will be opened. Ask and He will give.

In my case, I know exactly what it is I put before God and most tragically choose to do absolutely nothing about it. Because let’s gets real, allowing God to have control over every aspect of your life sounds good in theory, but how many of us actually hand it over--the whole thing, that is. It’s easy only handing over pieces, while grasping tightly to others. I am extremely guilty of negotiating with God. In honesty, I do it with everyone and everything in my life. And don’t try to lay the innocent card down on this one. I’m confident I was not the only 2 year old that held a death grip onto about 10 toys and yet still dropped down to my knees in utter pain as I watched another child try to grab something of mine. The catch being in those brief moments between the awakening of your selfishness and a parental scolding you realize you need to give something up. After a long internal debate you try to glorify last year’s Barbie to little Mary Alice to distract her from the new tickle me Elmo doll you’re not quite ready to share, let alone give up.

Here God, you can have my relationships with family and friends, oh... and finances. You can have that one too. What’s that, God? My future husband?? Um, well actually... if you don’t mind, I think I’ll hold onto that one myself.

“The heart is deceitful and beyond cure...” Jeremiah 17:9. We underestimate the wickedness of our own hearts. God not only knows the very depths of our hearts, but wants to save us from the bondage of evil within it. The heart is tricky. It allows us to think we are in control, when it’s actually quite the opposite. I’m learning in this very moment that God is a jealous God and while He gives us the option to choose Him, He also reserves the right to rip every single idol you put before Him right out of your hands--and has no problem doing so. He should be number one in our hearts, no ifs, ands or buts. He deserves nothing less and won’t rest until He reigns from the throne of our hearts.

God has one by one released (for lack of a better word) every potential love interest from my life. After each failed attempt I heard Him say loud and clear... Choose me. Pick me this time. Pursue me instead of this boy. However my flesh responded with an... Okay God, how about I pick up my Bible and read a few verses AFTER I finish talking to this boy on the phone. Or better yet, what if we talk about You? That counts, right?

I was allowing my current crush to get comfortable in the throne of my heart and expecting God to cozy up in John Doe’s lap. To no fault of the boys, I can almost picture God wistfully hauling him out of the chair and a couple helicopter wrestling moves later the boy is flat on his butt out in the streets. Then God ever so patiently brushes His hands off and returns to the room to give me another undeserving shot at assigning seats.

So what’s my response? I don’t think God wills me to never look in the direction of another boy. Or drop my guy friends like a bad habit. I don’t think it’s a sin to rent countless love stories upon love stories dreaming of the day my prince will come. So what would dying look like in this case? I assume I won’t look too much different on the outside. I expect there will not be a physical change in my outward appearance. I’m guessing there will be no bells and whistles that I have passed on. The change will happen from within--starting from the inside and moving outward.

I don’t have to attend an AA meeting to know that the first step is to admit the problem. My heart--your heart is deceitful. Meditating on the verse in Jeremiah helps to remind me that I am not in control over my hearts actions. If anything I am a victim; with my heart cleverly working against me. The second part of Jeremiah 17:9 says, “Who can understand it?” and carries on in verse 10 to answer, “I, the Lord, search the heart and examine the mind, to reward a man (or in my case a woman) according to his conduct, according to what his deeds deserve.”

It all falls back on the truth that God will not withhold any good thing. He longs to fill the desires of my heart. All he asks is that I trust in Him. Delight in His ways. Let Him reign over my heart, not the next pretty boy that walks by with a killer smile and a pair of baby blues. I say good-riddens to the falseness of my delusions. Let God deal with my manipulative heart. It’s almost bitter sweet. With my heart in God’s hands the appropriate action would result in an eager jump to my carnal death.

Being a writer and a hopeless romantic with a gift of imagination that tends to run off in all directions under the sun, it’s hard for me to willingly hand over the pen of my life--of my love story. I insist that I am capable of a better storyline; followed by forced emotions and painful mistakes that can’t be erased. So instead I’m left with a paper full of scribbles and mark ups that lead me back to the first line, each time a little more discouraged than the time before.

When I finally do hand the pen over to the true Author of all things, I envision a gigantic sigh of relief as the weight of all my selfish actions are removed from my chest, followed by an ‘about time’ from the Man above. I watch as He pulls out a completely fresh piece of paper and begins to write a love story so far beyond what my silly mind is even capable of wrapping itself around.

And it's there that I realize, my story was a poor attempt at a carbon copy movie script complete with an unhappy ending. But immediately upon role reversals He begins intricately designing an original masterpiece for my life. A custom made, hand written story line begins to unfold created by the One who created me. Seems fitting that He might know a little better than I, not only what events should play out but how the story ends. Dare I even say... Happily Ever After???

Normally I am not one to promote the spoiling of movies. I am appalled at the very thought of an ending squealer or a plot revealer—-both roles I just made up and are very proud of, I might add. However, consider yourself lucky to have saved the $5 rental fee from this particular movie. That is, unless you enjoy being horrified beyond belief and the occasional drive heave. Try as I might to push out the gruesome scenes that insist on replaying themselves in my mind, I couldn’t help but question the overall theme of the movie and its relevance to a very real problem society continues to sweep under the rug, dare I even say... promote?

...I know you are dying to hear my ranting. But sadly enough tonight is a rare opportunity for me to make it in bed before the stroke of midnight, even if only by a few minutes. Rest assured, I will return with far more than a disappointing movie review.

As humans, we naturally fall victim to patterns. I am a creature of habit. I have definitely been a in spiritual drought and the ugly truth being I didn't really mind it. I knew I would eventually drift back into the wake, but I wasn't in any big hurry. I was desperately trying to avoid being "fake" which in turn resulted in my fall. I was rereading some devotions from around this time last year and found a passage that was soo fitting to what I was struggling with at this point in my life. Part of it was encouraging to look at how much I was learning and at the same time knowning how far I had come. However, I was slightly discouraged to have lost so much ground.

so instead of summing it up with an enthusiastic "ditto"... I figured I'd get by with a copy and paste.

...


The pull has been stronger than ever in the last week or so. And I find myself missing God. I truly miss spending time with him and spending time talking about him. I read old notes or journal entries and thirst for that spiritual strength that surrounded everything about that moment, surrounded everything about me.

I miss getting lost in worship.

This time last year, I was just getting plugged into Quest as a leader. I was building crazy awesome friendships and getting my first real taste of Leadership and the responsibilities that came with it. Retreats, community groups, MCing with Rob @ the first Ignites, and being able to share my testimony via two gigantic screens for about 200 college students. Around this time, I was given a contact list of girl's names on a piece of paper. Those names transformed into unforgettable relationships. And unfathomable growth.

Why has it been so hard to maintain consistency in my spiritual growth?

I think I might have stumbled across the simple, but ever so profound answer. As the Belize crew shared their experiences with us at Elevate, Katie said something knock you out of your seat awesome. How had I never thought of this before? She spoke of these children and families over there that had absolutely nothing to call their own. Yet they loved God.

They love God for who He is and not for what He can do for them.

I can apply this to almost every relationship I have or have ever been in. I love people for what they can do for me. This is just a scratch on the surface of honesty. Love = benefits. How can I benefit from this person? this situation? And when I do... I love it.

I can trace this back to EVERY dating relationship I have ever been in. Hmmm, I wonder why none of them have worked out....

One novel later, I said I wouldn't make this long. Forgive me.

I am so blessed. I have never lacked any good thing. He has provided for me in every area of my life. I ask, He gives. I stumble, He is there to pick me up.

If I had nothing... would I still love God?

I’ve been front row center for my share of break-ups and failed attempts at romance. So what’s the recipe for success in a relationship? Everyone has their opinions; every story unfolds differently--so is there a carbon copy cheat sheet floating around somewhere that I can get my hands on?

If there were, I would imagine advice like ‘it’ll come when you least expect it’ or ‘when it’s the right one you’ll know’ would show up on the list. Following many others such as ‘patience is a virtue’, ‘friends make the best lovers’ and I guess maybe even a ‘don’t count your chickens before they hatch’ analogy. At the ripe age of 22, I’ve come to learn that starting a relationship is the easy part. The real problem lies in making it last--extra credit if during so, you manage to stay in love.

I’ve seen the most smitten fall doomed to disaster. I’ve seen the most dysfunctional conquer the perfect storm. I’ve witnessed the many faces of love: playful, reckless, unconditional, passionate, and sensible, just to name a few. Maybe the problem results from our misconstrued definition of love--action verses emotion. Love is an emotion that is often mistaken for lust, infatuation and a few other words in that family. Love can burn with a never ending flame of excitement, and has also been known to slip into a comfort zone that keeps all parties involved warm and cozy well into their later years. Love, as an emotion, can be watered down over time. Love, as an action, can be eternity.

The romantic scenarios bouncing around in my head far out number the stars in the sky. Whether it’s a gift or a curse, I haven’t yet decided. At this point in my life, surviving as a single, I would have to go with the later. I only hope my husband has the same creativity in the area of happily ever after as I. Which brings me back to my original dilemma--is there a formula to success in love and marriage? A pinch of patience, a table spoon of timing, two cups of compromise and don’t forget the all important dash of this special ingredient no one seems to know about.

Where is my soulmate? Has God handpicked and created one person on this earth who I will spend the rest of my life with? While the idea seems good in theory, the cenacle side of me believes there are many people wandering this earth that I’d be compatible with. If two people make a conscious effort to compromise I believe long-term togetherness is within arms reach. In this case of settling, the butterflies everytime you touch and dinner’s by candle light aren’t necessarily in the cards, however a functional relationship is fully attainable. I would assume most would chalk it up as a win in this make or break world of divorce before thirty. It saddens my heart that the romance we seek in our deepest of hearts can more easily be found in the movies and books we read rather than in the lives we surround ourselves with.

As the token single girl at work I have the privilege to look objectively upon many relationships; which by no means makes me an expert of any sort. However, through much observation and my own personal trial and error I have collected a few opinions on the matter at hand. As I am confident every other person under the sun has also done their share of formulating. With the massive amount of relationship advice distributed throughout our society through magazines, books, relationship gurus and know-it-all friends and family, it’s amazing there are any breakups at all--being that everyone seems to already have all the answers; however, reality proves quite the opposite.

If I were to ask you what makes a relationship last, I would assume the response to resemble your basic list of textbook answers like:
*Communication
*Compromise
*Trust
*Attraction
*Common Goals/Interests
*Commitment
Now depending on personal experience I also speculate the order of importance would vary, keeping the same general ideas, of course. But, is it a combination of those actions? Can you survive with one or two of those characteristics, while blundering heavily on the others, or is it a case of all or nothing? What good is attraction if you lack trust? What if your communication is top notch, yet falter in the area of compromise?

I suspect to lose the secular vote as I mention what I truly in my heart of hearts believe to be the answer. Without a doubt, God is the common denominator in every true life romance I have encountered. Now, I realize as with all generalizations there are exceptions to the rule. I accept that many non-believers are capable of living happily ever after. I, also, agree that simply being a Christian does not give you the advantage of a successful marriage. The divorce rate among Christians is growing at an alarming rate. Please don’t miss what I am trying to say here. I am simply stating that a relationship with God as the foundation will not crumble. If both parties are truly focused on God and in line with what He intends for their lives, in my opinion, it doesn’t leave much room for error. Does this mean a problem free life of perfection?--not quite, but a relationship that will stand the test of time? Yes, very much so.

I don't write this to in any way condemn, lecture or push my beliefs upon anyone; but rather to remind myself to constantly set the bar higher. Never let the impatient heart settle. The heart is deceitful. I must place my full trust in God and His promises to fill the desires of my heart. Not forgeting it will all take place in His perfect timing and not a moment sooner. Also keeping in mind it will be with the man He has prepared and not the cute boy I wish to cast as the lead roll.

I would assume a majority of the problems in relationships don't result from lack of a certain quality from one or both parties, but more so from trying generate an relationship out of thin air based on inflated emotions to begin with. I imagine this might look like a.) a long bike ride down a one way road to unhappiness with the wrong guy shoved in the wire basket in front. In this case I would strongly advise abandoning ship in preparation for the long haul back to where you started--hoping you're one of the lucky few who have their try at a round two. Or b.) you could jump in the car with your own personal guide who will navigate you successfully through the opticles of life with a passenger designed specifically for you.

No brainer. I'm going to go with B. Final answer.

Sounds easy enough, so what exactly does that look like? And how will you know when you've found it?

...to be continued.

I want this book to be directed to the everyday Jane's (or John's). I want to target irresponsible 18-25 year olds with dirty pasts, dysfunctional families, and secret lives. I want to reach good people who make bad choices. I want people who long for spiritual well being, but equally enjoy living in the flesh. I want people who know better and don't care--people with a million questions mixed with some who think they have all the answers. I want to reach the unreachable. I want people who jump into the pit willingly. I want to help the helpless. I want to reach the person who runs from reality.

If you struggle with psycho tendencies, depression, loneliness, emptiness, numbness, laziness, disappointment, denial or all of the above, I want to be the one to understand--the one you can relate with. I want to reach people without a plan--people who are scared to death of what the future holds.

But most importantly, I want to write the book as an imperfect Christian without all the answers. My goal is to encourage, undestand and motivate the reader to grasp their potential, embrace their flaws and make it through this one-shot life in relatively one piece.

Every single choice we make, large or small, can affect even the smallest detail of our lives. Some choices are passed down through parents or family. Some are conscious. Some are made without knowing the full extent of what will result. I could go as far as saying most are accidental. Some regretted, some lucky, some with a lot of consideration and many without so much as a thought.

I’m talking about life changes. At what point did you decide what your future would entail? I can remember as far back as second grade deciding on my career as a country singer. I can’t sing now, nor have I ever had the capabilities to do such. This particular decision made prior to any knowledge of what the future holds as actually attainable. Or is the sky really the limit? At what moment in time do the decisions you make line up with how your life unfolds? Do the small choices collect together to make up who you are? And what is the appropriate action to unravel the past’s decisions, or is there?

Is my life story already written and my purpose is to simply show up everyday? Or is every moment a different path down a road I pave for myself? When do dreams cross over to the point of reality? When do your silent wishes reveal themselves to be true? At what point does the person you spent time with today become just a person you used to know? At the end of the road is it all one big blur of past, present, future? Or is there a definitive line between the three?

What I decide to do tomorrow will ultimately act as a stepping stone to the rest of my life. We live in a world where people are more inclined to look upon the past. We choose to live our lives with no regrets. A statement very centered around what we’ve done, instead of what lies ahead. I could spend the rest of my twenties basking in the memories of what has made me who I am today. So in a sense am I ever really growing--or am I simply adding layers to the person I was?

What would a life look like that was centered around the future? Every action I took would serve a purpose. Every decision I made would contribute to my success or failure. If you are constantly glancing back you are bound to stumble at some point in your life. Are you the type of person who measures success based on how far you’ve come? Or how much closer you are to where you want to be?

Every night that we go to sleep is one more opportunity to clean our slate. Tomorrow you could wake up and unconsciously go through the motions of the day and find yourself back in bed for the night with a pretty uneventful completely normal day. Or you could wake up and consciously be aware that every move you make will somehow in some way result in a life change. Maybe not that day, or even a month from now—possibly years gone by without even a ripple, but one day you wake up unhappy wondering at what point you went wrong. And then you’re hit with the startling reality... could that day have been the day that changed the rest of your life?